


Bound

by TreeDaddyD



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Dark Harry, Drug Dealing, Drugs, M/M, Raves, Recreational Drug Use, Tom being Tom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreeDaddyD/pseuds/TreeDaddyD
Summary: His birthright stolen and left to rot in an unhappy foster home, Tom has two escapes: drugs and the cultivation of his grand revenge plan. When the time to act against the family that ruined him comes, Tom finds himself utterly unprepared. Years of planning couldn't have prepared him for Harry Potter.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46
Collections: Tomarry Reverse Big Bang 2020





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the wonderful [relic_crown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_crown/pseuds/relic_crown) for betaing! :) As always, their edits are lit out of ten. 
> 
> Also, thank you [bloop18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloop18/pseuds/bloop18) for the lovely art that inspired this. <3 You can also catch them on instagram @le_blop.

__

_I_ _can do this_ , Tom reminded himself as he lit the fourth cigarette that hour, trying to take the edge off as he waited. 

Would Potter show up today? His sources said he would, but they had said that last time and the time before that. Despite the couple of weeks of waiting at different spots for Harry Potter, nervousness still gripped him. Setting up a “chance” meeting so far has been difficult and tedious, would the rest of his plan be even more so?

The bright orange parking garage that he was leaning on was less busy than the cafe - Sweet Cakes - that he was eyeing. Despite the fact that Tom had never seen Potter here, it was apparently a place he frequented. 

His phone vibrated a few times before Tom took it out to see ten new messages. All of them were customers - some wanted to buy coke and molly, others weed. Tom replied to a few of them before putting his phone back into his pocket. 

Tom glanced up, then almost choked on smoke. 

Harry was staring at him, coffee in hand with a look he couldn’t quite decipher. 

Tom took a drag of his cigarette, his heart in the back of his throat. “Do you want one?” 

Harry’s expression and body language shifted to something more relaxed, a smile slowly creeping on his face. "Sure." He strode up to Tom and took the offered cigarette in his hand, his fingers lingering for a moment. Harry’s eyes lit up as he met Tom’s gaze, a slightly pink tint to his brown cheeks. 

This wasn’t going to be hard then. _Good_. A surge of victory and smugness filled him, excitement vibrating along his skin.

Harry pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette, smoke filling the space between them.“Do you come here often?” Harry asked.

“I do.” Tom wracked his brain, trying to think of something else to say. “Fun to see all of the graffiti on this side of town.” 

Harry hummed. “Are you an artist?” 

A section of one of the many books he’s read on seduction popped into his mind. Tom did exactly what it said to do and gave Harry a once over, gaze slowly raking down his body. “I’m not, but I do appreciate art when I see it.” 

Harry’s blush intensified as he ran a hand through his chaotic hair before taking a drag of his cigarette. Silence fell between them and Tom took the time to actually take Harry in. 

Despite how much he looked like James, Tom didn’t get the same egotistical and pompous energy from him. Tom’s contacts at Harry’s previous school spoke of how chaotic he was, but other than his disheveled uniform and bed head, he didn’t really look the part. There was a quiet confidence in his posture, and an effortless elegance in the way he moved. Unlike his father and brothers, he didn’t flaunt his wealth, the only sign was his Hogwarts uniform. Harry was the same age as him - sixteen - and like him, he looked older than his age: a certain look in his eyes he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Say,” Tom said, breaking the silence, “Would you want to get together sometime? My crew and I throw raves if you’re into that sort of thing.” 

Tom knew Harry would be. His sources described him as cool and quiet, as someone who threw the best parties, but kept to himself. No one seemed to truly know Harry Potter, not even his supposed “best friends.” 

The mystery of it all intrigued Tom. Made him want to know more despite himself. 

Harry’s face brightened. “I would love that.” 

Tom smiled, trying to keep his face soft, warm and inviting. “I’m Tom, by the way.”

“Harry.” 

They exchanged numbers and as he put his contact information in Harry’s phone, his dad popped up in his notifications. Tom paused, looking at his contact picture, anger filling him. 

It burned. 

James Potter was the reason Tom was an orphan - was poor and broke, his family name written off into obscurity. James was the reason his true name - Tom Gaunt - wasn’t written on his birth certificate. The reason Tom had suffered for all these years, not knowing who he was or why his life had ended up in the way it did. 

Tom repressed the inferno blazing in his veins as he filled out the rest of his contact information then gave Harry back his phone.

“I’ll text you,” Harry said. Tom steeled himself, coaching his face into something softer. 

“Sounds great.” 

Tom’s rage dampened as they parted. His plan would work. Soon enough the Potters would be dead at his feet and _Tom’s_ rightful inheritance and financial empire would be his. 

_He couldn’t wait._

* * *

Time for Tom was a sticky, chaotic syrup colored with cocaine and blaring bass. Tom loved what he did. He never quite got over the allure of drug dealing and parties. Each rave he put on was a jumbled ball of unexpected, a mix of chaos and order. Tom never left a rave without selling at least six to seven hundred pounds worth of molly and cocaine and that made it all the more sweeter. Even his so-called “competition” couldn’t dispute the fact that his crew - Snake Pit - threw the best parties in London. 

Tom walked around a cluster of warehouses, scouting a location for his next party. With the crackdown on illegal raves, he couldn’t let anyone from his crew fuck the location up. It had to be perfect. 

After hours of painstakingly searching, he found the perfect abandoned warehouse and put a notice on the building declaring he was squatting in it, so the cops couldn’t enter the building without a warrant. Didn’t always prevent them from getting shut down, but it did slow the police down and help them not get caught. 

After leaving the warehouse, he caught a bus back to his foster family’s home. His phone beeped not long after. _Harry_ . ‘ _Wanna get together sometime still?’_ the text message said. 

Tom texted back quickly before getting on the bus. 

The bus ride was mostly spent texting Harry, and finalizing plans to hangout Friday. It was only two days away, but impatience filled him. He just wanted everything to be over and done with. To already be married to Harry and for the Potters to just be dead at his feet. He’d already spent years on this: three years to find out about his true identity and another year gathering information about the Potters and formulating his plan. The idea of more years wasted just getting what already belonged to him, made dread pool in the depths of his stomach. 

Finding out about Harry had been the easiest part. He was well-liked at his other school. The problem was that no one knew much about him. 

No one knew exactly why he left his old school, but he was seemingly a different person at Hogwarts. Instead of cool and distant, his classmates at Hogwarts saw him as shy and nerdy - insignificant and hardly worth paying attention to. It was frustrating not getting the complete picture of him before attempting to seduce him.

And if seduction didn’t work (though Tom doubted that would be the case), he’d maneuver his assets out of James' hands. The biggest problem with the second plan, though, was how drawn out it would be. It would be an even bigger headache than the plan he had now, and that wouldn’t do.

As he went to his foster home, he steeled himself for whatever bullshit he’d walk into. And of course, as if on cue, he opened the door to screaming. 

“I didn’t steal shit!” one of his foster “brother’s” shouted, shoulders tensed, teeth clenched. Billy was his least favorite of his foster family - a dumb kid with anger issues and a propensity for getting in trouble with the law. Tom stayed as far away as he could - incompetent idiots got you caught and Tom had too many plans for that.

“Get out!” Ted, his foster dad, yelled. “Don’t come back until you have that fifty pounds.” 

Billy grabbed a mug off the table next to him and chucked it at Ted’s head. “Fuck you - I’m out.” He stormed past Tom, sneering at him. Tom gave him a sneer back before Billy slammed the door on his way out. 

Carol, his foster mom, came into the room with her hands full of freshly cleaned laundry. “Tom, where’ve you been?” 

“Out,” he said before taking off his shoes and hurriedly making his way to the room he shared with two other foster kids - Billy and Eric. They were quiet for the most part and didn’t get in his way: reason enough for him to want to room with them instead of any of the other five. The room they shared was mostly bare, three beds with plain white sheets, a few posters on the walls, and two dressers that they had to share. Tom hated it. Hated the bareness, hated how stifled he felt. He avoided being here as much as he could, sometimes even couch-surfing for days at a time with members of his crew. 

Tom entered his room and Eric and Dennis looked up briefly from their phones before looking back down, ignoring him. He immediately flopped down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

Yelling between his foster parents sounded through the house and his insides twisted. The fact that he had to be here - the fact that James had written his destiny for him made his blood boil. To think he’d actually have to spend what might be years before getting his chance to kill the lot of them. Made him want to strangle everyone in sight, but he wouldn’t. He can’t. 

He didn’t want to ruin his plans after all. His plans were bigger than regaining what was his. Would go beyond the shipping and retail industries to both illegal and legal businesses, and he’d be the one on top in both. He already had a booming drug business that he hoped to expand when he made enough money from selling on social media, and at raves. 

The yelling grew louder. He put on his headphones to listen to an audiobook on acting and closed his eyes.

 _Soon_.

* * *

There was something about the sky that night. Dark and red, smokey and thick. It set his teeth on edge. 

His hands curled at his sides as he waited for Harry in front of a random cafe Tom had chosen on a whim. _Harry would be easy,_ Tom repeated in his mind. Simple - nothing to worry about. But the anxious knot in his gut said otherwise. 

But that wouldn't stop him. It couldn't. Not when so much rode on getting close to Harry. 

Tom lit a cigarette, idly watching traffic go by. 

"Tom.” 

He jumped slightly, his cigarette falling out of his hands. Willing his heart to calm down, he turned around with the most charming smile he could muster. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Harry said softly. Despite the noise of the city, the words felt loud and crisp.

"Not a problem. I got more." Tom took out his cigarette pack and offered one to Harry. 

"I’m okay, it’s not what I want to smoke right now. Say, got any green?" Harry asked. 

"I've got more than green if you're looking."

Harry ran a hand through his hair and hummed. "I'm interested. Whatcha got?"

"Just about anything you want." Tom took another cigarette out and took a deep drag, the smoke soothing his nerves. 

Harry paused, a slightly mischievous look lighting up his features. 

Tom took a good look at Harry in the silence. The neon cafe sign bathed him in its glow, his face soft and ethereal, his clothes a whirlwind of color and texture. For some reason, Tom expected Polo or Gucci or some other rich kid brand. His clothes seemed cheaper, graphic in their design, but something you would see in a thrift shop or in the fashion district.

"If you have it, molly or coke sounds fun. Though, I don't know what kind of night you're wanting to have." 

Tom had a vague plan: he knew where he wanted to take them, knew that he wanted to get close to Harry in some way, but he hadn't thought past that. Both molly and coke would be good for what he wanted, but he wasn't sure he was ready to do molly with Harry. It was a touchy feely kind of drug. Something that could easily make something happen between them, but it might be too soon for him, too fast. 

Tom might have prepared himself in some ways, but was he actually ready? Self doubt left a bitter taste on his tongue, and no matter how many times he swallowed, he couldn't get it out. Shaking his head, he willed his thoughts away. 

Prepared or not, he had a mission. 

"Why limit yourself? Why not both?" Tom said, his voice coming out smoother than he felt. 

Harry chuckled. "Careful, I might just take you up on your offer."

"Why not? I say we go all out.”

It was going to be a long night regardless. If he wanted to do his usual rounds and spend time with Harry, he was going to need something. Despite his reservations, he knew he was a different kind of Tom on molly - a bit more chaotic, fun, and slightly warmer in his facade.

Despite his reservations, the more he thought about doing molly, the better it sounded. 

Harry hummed. "If you supply the molly, I'll supply the coke."

"Dance with me and you have a deal" 

Harry gave Tom an unreadable look, before something more playful lit up his face. “You’ll regret that, but sure, I’ll dance with you.” 

“How could I regret dancing with someone as lovely as you?” The words left Tom’s mouth in a rush and he almost recoiled afterwards. Tom hated sickeningly sweet. Hated the way Harry’s checks turned a light pink and a gleam entered his eyes. Hated the forced smile on his face, hated how warm and welcoming it probably looked and sounded. He squashed the feeling of wrongness down and leaned into his character. “Wanna go to the convenience store to get some gum and water then?”

“Sounds good,” Harry said. 

The convenience store they went to was an older brick building connected to a variety of other stores. The store had five people including them and the one employee at the cash register. Though the gum was at the front, Harry immediately went to the back where the miscellaneous tools and gadgets were. 

“Before I get anything, how chaotic are you looking to be this evening?” Harry asked, reaching for a fidget spinner and a wrench. 

Tom paused. Despite himself, he found himself thinking about the question seriously. How chaotic did he actually want to be tonight? What _did_ he feel comfortable with?

Not even twenty seconds passed before Harry let out a giggle. “I guess the answer to that is as chaotic as possible. Your wish is my command.” 

Harry filled his arms up with random things before they got water then headed to the front to check-out and get gum. 

On their way there, a man with dark circles underneath his eyes and long disheveled hair walked through the door. As soon as he spotted Harry, he dropped the duffle bag in his hands, eyes growing wide. 

“Tye, is that you?” he asked, edging closer to them with each word. His eyes grew wider. “Do you still have - “

“Leave,” Harry said, his persona darkening, a hard edge to his posture and face. 

“But you promised the org - “

Harry gave him a look as sharp as knives and the other shut up. There was something so strange about the interaction - illuminating and frightening. His persona had shifted as quickly as a switchblade and it set Tom on edge. Was Harry actually dangerous? Or was he just putting on a front?

“Y-yes, okay. I’ll go, but please think of coming back. We need you,” the man whimpered like a beaten dog begging for scraps. 

The man left not long after, and Harry turned to Tom, the bright persona firmly back in place. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was that?” 

Harry eyed him as if searching for something. “An old friend.” 

Didn’t sound like an old friend to Tom. It sounded as if the man saw Harry as a sort of leader. Nothing in his research even hinted at Harry being a part of an organization. What could Harry be hiding? 

“What kind of gum do you like?” Harry asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. He hummed as he bent down, browsing the selection. 

“Any kind of mint works,” Tom said, taking a second to once again study Harry. There was almost no trace of the man who stood here a moment ago. This Harry was soft and sickly sweet with an almost childlike joy lighting up his features. 

Who was Harry Potter? 

Harry grabbed at least five different packs of mint gum and threw them on the counter. “Mint it is.”

The woman at the cash register gave them a weird look as she rang everything up. Tom glanced at his phone after it buzzed before texting his supplier - Zack - about the order of the night. Zack replied back quickly saying he delivered the goods to Chaz, the most reliable person in Snake Pit other than himself. Tom sent a text confirming plans with Chaz before he looked up and realized Harry was done checking out.

“You ready?” Harry asked as he put a piece of gum in his mouth. Tom nodded and put his phone back into his pocket. 

Something dark and twisty grew in his gut as they made their way to the rave. It sank on his skin like a rash, and the urge to scratch at it tore at his throat. He wanted to know more, wanted to know everything. Wanted to be the one completely in control and in the know, but he wasn’t. Not yet. He tried to ground himself in small talk and charm Harry with sweetness and pretty words as they walked. Harry was visibly flustered and flirting back, but no matter how hard he tried, a sharp anxiety just wouldn’t leave him.

* * *

There was a buzzy quality to raves. A distinct all encompassing hum that had nothing to do with the music that filled his bones. Everyone was on something, dancing as if they had no care in the world. For as tightly wrung as Tom found himself sometimes, raves were a place that made the weight of his ambition feel light. They were an affirmation of what he could do - achieve - in such a short time. His small drug and rave empire felt like a pleasant dreamscape filled with color and hazy lulls of rolling bass. 

Showing Harry felt all at once sickening and pleasing. To know that this was his doing, his crew’s hard work, filled him with a sense of pride. But at the same time, to know a Potter would enjoy the fruits of his labor made it turn bitter on the tip of his tongue. 

The warehouse was on the outskirts of London. It was tiny compared to most warehouses they usually threw raves in, but it suited the need just fine. On the outside, there was scarcely any evidence that a rave was taking place inside except for the people lounging around and funneling into the back entrance. The music was surprisingly well contained, only audible when the door opened. 

As they walked towards the back door, the people outside nodded and smiled at Tom. They knew exactly who to thank for their temporary bliss. 

Tom knew this was only a slice of what it would be like when he inherited the Potter and Gaunt financial empire. Everyone would know his name. Treat him with reverence and respect. 

No one would ever pity him again or think of him as the poor little orphan boy with a tragic backstory. 

“Wanna snort a line before we go in?” Harry asked, staring at a group of three doing just that. 

“Sure,” Tom said. On most occasions, he didn’t mix coke and molly, but a part of him wanted to see how good Harry’s coke was. 

It was probably shit. Not better than his that’s for sure. 

Harry pulled a small bottle of white powder from his pocket before snorting a bit of it, and then handed it to him. Tom did the same, the familiar burn filling his nose and the taste of it lingering at the back of his throat. It was good, but not as good as his. Tom smirked, triumph lightening the tension in his shoulders. 

A moment passed before Harry sighed loudly as he dropped the plastic bag from the convenience store on the ground and stretched. “God, I’ve missed this.” 

“Coke?” 

Harry paused, eyes glazing over before his expression sharpened into a mischievous look. “Something like that, I suppose.” 

_He supposed?_ “Did you lace the coke?” 

“Oh,” Harry’s gaze snapped to him, “I didn’t lace it or anything. Just, this feeling - I haven’t had it in a while. I’ve been on my best behavior lately, unfortunately.” He said the words quickly, all jumbled and breathless. And once again, Tom’s curiosity was piqued. 

“Let’s go inside and take the molly before it gets too late,” Tom said.

“I don’t mind staying up. I’ve got nothing to do tomorrow.” 

Tom shrugged. “It’s always good to drop molly before eleven at these sorts of things.” 

“Fair enough,” Harry said as they moved towards the entrance. 

They open the door to loud house music and the smell of stale sweat and musk. Before they could get any further, Chaz ran up to them then practically yelled in Tom’s ear, “I need your help. Jaz got into ketamine and meth again.” 

Tom rolled his eyes and turned back to Harry. “I’ve got to handle this. I’ll be right back.”

Harry nodded then pointed to the dance floor, mouthing the words, “I’m going to dance.” Tom nodded back before following Chaz to the back where Jaz was screeching about the end times and the Earth’s chakras. 

After calming Jaz down and getting him a ride back to his place, Tom got the molly from Chaz and went back to find Harry on the dance floor. 

The dance floor was illuminated in changing neon lights, moving along to the beat. Blown up palm trees and pineapples hung from the ceiling, and were pinned to the wall. The theme for tonight was “tropical” and while the decorations were usually more elaborate than they were now, it didn’t look half as bad as he was expecting. Maybe he _could_ trust the idiots. His head turned slightly to the left to see a few in his crew piss drunk, pouring vodka on themselves in a kiddie pool. Well, _some_ of the idiots. 

The DJ table was a simple black table with speakers and a turntable. The man performing had a lot of energy, jumping around with the others as he DJ-ed. Harry was nestled close to the DJ table dancing by himself, singing the lyrics to the song playing. Childlike joy shone on his face as he spinned and twirled around, the light making him look almost fairy-like. Hard to imagine that this Harry was the same one at the convenience store. 

The urge to crack Harry open, read his mind and see his brain sprawled out in its bloody glory filled him. The surge of bloodlust made him want to gnash his teeth and reach his hands to Harry’s neck. He squashed the urge as he got closer, willing himself not to bash the other’s head against the wall. 

When Harry saw him, he rushed to give Tom a hug. Tom almost pushed Harry off but instead settled to awkwardly return the hug. 

“Did you get the molly?” 

“Yep,” Tom said, then handed a pill to him before taking his own. 

They settle into dancing next to each other, but he couldn’t get into his usual groove, mind too active to lose himself in the music. He pretended to have fun and prayed the molly would kick in soon. 

When it did, the feeling was euphoric. He stopped dancing for a moment, just to feel the feeling consume him. It was like a flame dancing along his skin and in his veins. Pleasure filled him, the moment an endless heaven. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Harry asked, close to his ear. Tom jumped, opening his eyes and turning to face him. Harry turned his head slightly to the side. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to know if you wanted to dance. You did promise me one, after all.” 

Tom found himself nodding. It sounded great - which was definitely the molly talking. Sober Tom wouldn’t have thought so. Thank God for drugs and their uses to further Tom’s ambitions. 

They danced chastely for a while before Harry pulled him closer by his shirt. “Don’t be shy,” he teased. The next moments were a whirlwind of movement and sound, of heat and the odd desire to be close to Harry. They were grinding and it actually felt good, he felt good - better than he had in a long while. 

Eventually they decided to waltz to dubstep and Harry twirled him before Tom tripped and stumbled to the wall. Harry followed him, laughing. 

Before Tom could completely get his bearings, Harry pinned him to the wall, pupils blown, face flushed. “Do you want to know something funny?” 

Tom nodded, too overwhelmed by the drug and Harry’s proximity. 

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met.” 

Tom froze. “We’ve met?” 

Harry nuzzled his cheek to Tom’s then kissed his right ear. “I know who you are, Tom Gaunt,” he said, ignoring the question. The words came out warm and wistful and Tom had to do a double take to process what he just heard. “And I have a plan for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. <3


End file.
